


but you, my darling, you are the kind of love i would live for

by wintersend



Series: rebelcaptain week [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Denial of Feelings, Drinking, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Sort Of, Unconventional Relationship, jyn is in love with cassian but she doesn’t know, the usual, written for rebelcaptain week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 23:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15278550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersend/pseuds/wintersend
Summary: “Would we… would we go our separate ways? If we survived?”His eyes bore into hers, dark, honest, and open. “Of course not. Welcome home, remember?”Yes,home. Home is only Cassian.OR, Jyn and Cassian have a drunken conversation about what happens after the war and it leads to an unexpected agreement.





	but you, my darling, you are the kind of love i would live for

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, my craziest idea ever. I wrote it for Rebelcaptain week, day four, "survive" but it's a day late again... I’m terrible at deadlines.
> 
> Anyways, this is basically a snippet/prequel to either a really long oneshot or a multichapter fic that’s been in my head for months, but I think it works on its own as well.
> 
> I don't know if I’ll ever write the whole thing but if you’d like to see more, I guess now’s your chance to let me know.
> 
> Title taken from [here](http://lostcap.tumblr.com/post/133361499523/i-only-ever-thought-there-were-two-kinds-of)

Jyn isn’t drunk but everyone else is. She watches a red-faced Bodhi laugh a little too loud at something Luke Skywalker says, and across the room, she can see a slightly stumbling Han Solo make a pass at the Princess. By the look on Leia’s face, whatever he said was rather crude, and Jyn wonders if today is the day Leia finally murders Solo. Kes Dameron and Shara Bey are also lost in their little bubble, wrapped up in each other in a corner, looking disgustingly in love.

Even Chirrut and Baze are here, sitting at a table farther away, (a grumpy Baze dragged along by an amused looking Chirrut) though they are not drinking, merely observing and talking.

Everyone’s paired off, or trying to be, and Jyn tells herself she’s not bothered that she’s alone. _Is it mating season or something?_

The party, more of a little gathering with alcohol, is technically unauthorized, but no one says a thing if it boosts morale, especially on the icy unforgiving plains of Hoth, where people are grumpy and sour-faced on the best days. It’s the only reason she decided to attend – free booze and something to break the cold monotony of this kriffing base.

Besides, Bodhi had begged her to come, Chirrut and Baze showed up, and even Cassian is around somewhere. Though, admittedly, she hasn’t seen him in a while. She wouldn’t be surprised if he sneaked back to his quarters.

She gulps down the last of her drink, goes to refill her glass, then, on a whim, just grabs the entire bottle of Corellian rum and hides it under her jacket. No one is paying attention to her. By the look of this crowd, they shouldn’t be allowed to drink more, anyway. Another glance around to make sure no one noticed her, then she’s off in search of Cassian.

She finds him in his room, just as she’s suspected, eyes trained on the datapad in his hand. At least he’s lying on his bed, she supposes, and not straining his back more by hunching over the damn thing. He looks up as she enters and she makes a disapproving tsk sound.

“All work and no play makes Cassian a dull boy.” She removes the half-empty rum from her jacket and holds it up. “You left early.”

The sigh he lets out is tired, but he puts his datapad aside for her and she allows herself a small smile of satisfaction. He scoots over a bit, an invitation, and she sits down, crossed legs, at the foot of his bed.

“Sorry.” His voice is quiet but firm. She doesn’t know if he’s been drinking at all but he sounds sober. “It’s not my thing.”

She thinks about all the couples at the party, in love or looking for a night of passion, and her alone, the bottle being the only relationship she craves. Yeah, she can relate to that.

“You should have told me so. We could have sneaked off earlier, have our own private party here.” She passes the bottle to him, then winces when she realizes the sexual implications. “Ignore how that sounded.”

He chuckles but the humor doesn’t reach his eyes. Surprisingly, he twists the cap off the bottle and takes a swig of the rum. She expected it would take more persuasion on her part but she decides not to comment. He hands the rum back after a while, and they spend the next few minutes trading it between each other in silence, Cassian lost in his head, and Jyn regarding him carefully. His eyes are distant and somber, his grip tight around the bottle when he drinks; something’s bothering him.

“You good?” she asks eventually, tired of the silence. He’ll only talk about it if he wants to and she won’t push, but she also knows he’ll never broach the subject without prompting. She wants to give him the chance.

Cassian shrugs and she can tell he’s hesitating. The words are on the tip of his tongue but he’s not sure if he should say them; until she bumps his leg with hers and gives him an encouraging look. He exhales. “There were a lot of couples at the party tonight.”

Well, she wasn’t expecting _that_.

“You noticed too? It’s like karking mating season,” she repeats her joke to him and laughs. Is that really what’s bothering him? Does he wish to be one of those people, loitering around, hand in hand, like lovesick teenagers?

She can’t picture it. Cassian, a girl at his side, leaning into her space to whisper flirtatious things in her ear, pulling her closer by the waist, grinning coyly at each other. It doesn’t seem like him. It doesn’t seem right.

Maybe he just wants a partner, Jyn muses. Nobody likes to be alone, and even she had felt a bit lonely at the party. It’s natural. It’s still a bit unexpected.

“So what’s the deal, captain?” she goes on when his lips merely twitch at her joke. “Are you lonely? Envious? Do you… like someone?”

Friends talk about these things, right? She’s allowed to ask him if he likes someone. But it’s such a stupid word, _like_ , sounds too immature, and she feels silly for saying it. Force, this is not the conversation she thought they were going to have.

“No,” Cassian shakes his head and he sounds sincere. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do after this.”

Jyn pauses, blinking.

“Huh?”

“All those people… they look like they have it figured out, you know. What happens after the war. They have a plan or an idea. They want love, they want family. They’re going to get married, get a respectable job, pop out a few kids. Live.” He stops, gives a self-deprecating shrug. “Me, I have absolutely no clue. But I don’t think that’s in the cards.”

So it’s not a crush or even desire for a relationship. The image of Cassian with a faceless brunette bombshell dissolves into nothing. This makes a lot more sense.

Honestly, she understands his fears. When she thinks about her future, it’s always a shapeless vague mass. It’s hard to picture it, hard to believe she’ll make it that far. Even harder to imagine what she would do with all that freedom. All she’s known her entire life is fighting and she doesn’t know what happens when she doesn’t have to do that anymore.

But the uncertainty of today outweighs the uncertainty of tomorrow. _After the war_ is a foreign, far away concept that they don’t talk about. It’s only today that matters, today they have to get through alive; all this might never become a real problem for them to figure out.

Nevertheless, he’s right – getting married, having children seems like an impossible idea. She doesn’t think there are any happy endings in store for her and she suspects Cassian feels the same.

She places her hand atop his, an attempt at reassurance.

“If it helps, I have no clue either. So if we ever get to that point, we can be clueless together.”

That’s the one thing she’s sure about: she’s sure that she doesn’t want to be away from him. The idea of separating scares her but she realizes there are no guarantees he’ll want to stick around. She swallows, suddenly needing to know that he won’t leave her, even after.

“Would we… would we go our separate ways? If we survived?”

His eyes bore into hers, dark, honest, and open. “Of course not. Welcome home, remember?”

Yes, _home_. Home is only Cassian.

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” he goes on, “but I’ll stay with you.”

Relief floods through her veins. Force, she’s so grateful for this man. And maybe she’s a little drunk after all because –

“We should get married,” she says, as if it’s an ordinary suggestion, not a life-changing request, “if we both survive the war.”

The way Cassian’s eyes go wide is almost comical. She’s never seen him look so shocked before. “What?”

The explanation is a little hazy, not all that cohesive, (okay, she’s definitely drunk) but she voices it the best she can. The alcohol helps to loosen her tongue and express things she doesn’t normally express.

“Well, you said you would stay with me. And I don’t want to leave you, ever. So it just seems practical, right? I mean, you’re my home, and… there are worse reasons to get married.”

She doesn’t know who she is without the war, but with Cassian, she could figure it out. In her mind, dimmed by the rum, it’s as simple as that.

“There's nothing for me after this,” she adds, quieter. _Only you_ , she thinks.

Cassian is quiet as he stares at her and his face betrays almost nothing. She can tell he’s shocked, she can tell he’s thinking, but she has no idea if he’s actually contemplating her proposal or if he’s trying to decide how to tell her that she’s officially lost her mind.

As he stays silent, she’s struck by the revelation of what a dumb idea this was and shakes her head. “Forget it, it’s stupid.”

But maybe he’s drunk too because – “No, no, no, you’re right. You have a point.” He pulls himself up straighter, nodding a couple of times. It looks like her logic is finally dawning on him. “Why not? It makes sense. It’s logical.”

She blows out a nervous breath. “Right? Besides, this is all very hypothetical. Who knows when the war will end.”

“Who knows if we’ll live,” he points out.

“Exactly,” she nods, relieved that he doesn’t seem to think she’s insane. There’s a pause, then, “So… it’s a deal?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, with the tone of someone who can’t believe he’s doing this. “It’s a deal.”

She grins, a little out of her element, a little incredulous that he agreed, but grateful, nonetheless. Her future looks more stable than ever.

She lifts the bottle up in the air. “To my potential future husband.”

He laughs, a quiet and subdued sound, full of amusement. “To my potential future wife.”

They don’t discuss it in the morning but she doesn’t regret their pact.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure if this is too ooc for them, which is the main reason I put this project away, but please let me know your thoughts. I really would like to know if you think the idea works or not!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://captainandors.tumblr.com/)


End file.
